


within a frame

by sassymordechais (archiveofwebs)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist Sasha James, Falling In Love With A Painting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archiveofwebs/pseuds/sassymordechais
Summary: “Statement of…”“Jonathan Sims.”“Can I call you-”“No.”“Alright then. Please state your occupation, for the record.”-“She mentioned a painting?”“Hm.”“Sir?”“Yes, this probably has to do with the painting.”
Relationships: (hinted), Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	within a frame

The man across from Sasha seemed like something out of a historical drama. Or one of those flashy but inaccurate movies. 

Nevertheless.

“Statement of…”

“Jonathan Sims.”

“Can I call you-”

“No.”

“Alright then. Please state your occupation, for the record.”

“I am a writer. I write horror anthologies.”

“...I see…”

“I presented your assistant, Tim I believe, with a few of my pieces, in case you needed them to compare to my statement.”

“Thank you.”

-

_ “Sasha. Shit, this is- This is that statement from a few months back. The one with the coffin.” _

_ “Excuse me?” _

_ “Yep. Down to the letter. Every name and location is different, but it’s nearly identical.” _

-

“Your next question?”

“Can you tell me why you are here?”

_ Tell me everything, from the first detail to the last. I want it all.  _

_ I will give you nothing. _

Sasha blinked. The man blinked.

“I am here because a concerned third party reached out to you and you called me.”

“Yes, a Miss Georgie Barker. She seemed quite concerned.”

“Well, her concern is unfounded, but she was insistent. I was tired of dealing with sad eyes pointed in my direction.”

“She mentioned a painting?”

“Hm.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, this probably has to do with the painting.”

-

“Jon, what is that?”

“This? Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing! It’s a huge painting. And it looks ruined too.”

A large streak of black paint, directly across the eyes. Too seeped into the canvas to try to remove or clean.

Was it painted on shortly after the piece was finished?

Or was it intentional.

_ Get rid of the eyes! The vile things. _

“Jon?”

“Nothing. Tired. Moving is a pain.”

“We just started!”

-

“How did you find the painting?”

“Why is that of concern to you? It’s just a painting.”

“I-...”

-

As the snow settled in on the road leading from the manor, Jon settled in on his couch, content to read his book in the candle light. He would need to give it to his editor soon, but he preferred to read over it a few times, pen at the ready for marks and notes. 

_ -Alena stood back to let me have my ritual. There was something I always did when I first entered a cave, and that was to take a moment to turn off all the lights, and place both my hands upon the cold, earthen walls.- _

“Is that...is that correct?” The walls didn’t respond and Jon reread the segment. “Yes, that’s what she would have said.”

_ Your words are never wrong, my dearest Jonathan. Don't doubt them.  _

“...”

_ Don’t forget to change the name, dear. _

-

“So you are a horror writer?”

“Yes.”

“...and?”

“And what?”

-

_ “Tim? What is it?” _

_ “This...all of them...they are statements. Identical.” _

_ “Yes you’ve said that.” _

_ “Except...except they are dated before these people came here. By several weeks.” _

_ “What? That’s not-” _

_ “Oh my, it seems that something has the both of you excited.” _

_ “Elias!” _

_ - _

“Next ques-”

“Knock, knock. Is everything going okay here?”

“Elias! Everything is fin-”

“I find the questions repetitive and quite annoying but everything is fine.”

“I’m terribly sorry. Oh, where are my manners! Elias Bouchard, I am the head of this Institute.”

“Oh...uh, Jonathan Sims.” 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Jonathan. Is something wrong?”

“No. Not at all.” Heavy silence, heavier gazes. “Sorry, your eyes...they just seem familiar.”

“Is that so?”

-

_ “So before he left I asked him if we could borrow the painting for a bit, take photos.” _

_ “Oh? Did he agree?” _

_ “Yes, surprisingly. It’s in my office. Grab Martin and the camera. I don’t think we’ll be able to keep it for long.” _

_ - _

_ He ran his fingers down the wall where the painting once hung.  _

_ He felt hollow, tired, drained.  _

_ He hated leaving the house, hated anything leaving the house.  _

Just a few more days dear, I’ll be back soon. Maybe you should rest.

_ “...yes…” _

-

_ “Okay! Are we ready!” _

_ “Tim, Sasha probably has things to do. Let’s hurry it up.” _

_ “You are both no fun. Well then, Head Archivist! Reveal the spooky painting!” _

_ A soft swooshing sound, gasps, a dropped camera.  _

_ “I thought he said that there was a black streak? What is going on?” Sasha. _

_ “Is that- What the hell? Is he pranking us?” Tim. _

_ Martin. “No. Despite how similar they may look, this man isn’t Elias. Looking at the bottom, it says-” _

_ - _

_ As Jon lays his head down on the too big bed, the candles blow out.  _

_ He’s tired. So very tired. _

_ ‘Come home soon…” _

Jonah.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about making this a series but I'm not sure yet. Love to hear what y'all think!
> 
> (And the statement is from Lost Johns' Cave!)
> 
> You can find me on twitter [@sassymordechais](https://twitter.com/sassymordechais)!


End file.
